


Breaking and entering, but make it a plot point.

by genderlessfish



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Breaking and Entering, Kinda, M/M, he can be icky so look after yourselves, remus-typical things. please don't read if you aren't comfy w anything he might say, they're both autistic cause same and i say so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24804067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderlessfish/pseuds/genderlessfish
Summary: “...Alright. You know that time when we were kids when I said I’d grow up to be homeless and have to live in a cardboard box that stinks of piss and my clothes would be ripped and in order to get money I’d have to--”“Yes, I remember.” Logan interjected. “But I fail to see its relevance to your current situation.”“Well, that’s me now!” Remus giggled. “Well, minus the cardboard box- I haven’t found one that smells right yet. But my jeans are ripped! And the prostitution is only a matter of time, really.”Logan took a second to decipher his friends words, a frown setting onto his face.“You’re homeless?”“And considering prostitution!”“... You’re sixteen, Remus. That’s illegal.”Remus winked. “Some like ‘em young”“That’s not-” Logan ran a hand through his hair.“Please don’t drop out of education to become a prostitute."-Or, at 4am, Logan gets a visit from the trash man.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, can be read as platonic but let's be honest they're both whipped
Comments: 11
Kudos: 146





	Breaking and entering, but make it a plot point.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly really proud of this fic, it was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you end up liking it too! I'm thinking of writing a part two but I'm not sure yet.
> 
> Also, Remus is... Remus. The summary is about as bad as it gets with what he says, but if you aren't comfy with anything about him then please don't put yourself in a bad position by reading this.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the stress of exam week. 

Virgil practically embodied anxiety at the best of times, but with the looming threat of what he described as a “lifetime of failure and poverty”, combined with the constant high of red bull to accommodate for his lack of sleep, finals seemed to put him into overdrive. 

Janus, equally sleep deprived, seemed to lose all filter during this period- his usually carefully constructed mask dropped, clever snark and sarcasm replaced by crude and poorly thought out humour. 

Roman was especially moody, spending his time trying to cram as much information into his brain as he could after having spent the entirety of the term focusing on the musical rather than his schoolwork. 

Patton seemed to neglect revision entirely in favour of fretting over his friends. If he spent as much time studying as he did convincing Virgil to go to sleep and Roman to remember to eat, he’d be a straight A student. 

And Remus was… Well, Remus. There’s a solid chance he was incapable of getting stressed about anything, but with everyone else running on negative three hours of sleep they were far more likely to be frustrated by his... oddities.

Logan tried not to take too much pleasure in reminding his peers that in theory, had they completed all their work when it was set and maintained a consistent revision schedule as he had, final examinations would be a walk in the park. 

In theory.

The reality, Logan found year after year, was far less simple. Whilst he was the most prepared, he found himself up almost as late as Virgil trying to ensure he remembered everything he’d learned, and if it wasn’t for coffee he doubted he’d be able to endure the week. 

Currently, he was slumped over his desk, tending a mug of coffee as he stared blankly into his textbook. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting like that when a tap on his window- presumably a tree branch, blown by the wind- broke him from his trance, causing him to jump and spill his coffee all down himself. After a few seconds of wondering why it didn’t hurt, he realized that it was _cold_ , and resolved it was probably about time to call it a night.

He gently set the mug down, too tired to clean it up yet, and pulled off his soaked shirt before collapsing onto his bed face-first. 

Maybe it was down to having caught a grand total of 4 hours sleep over the last three days, or maybe it was because his face was firmly planted into his pillow, but Logan failed to register the weight on his back, or its implications, until he heard a voice whisper in his ear  
“ _Logannnnn~_.”

He snapped upright immediately, and the figure perched on his back tumbled to the floor. He fumbled for his glasses and slipped them on, just in time to see his intruder turn from a neon blur to the familiar form of Remus, green eyes raking appreciatively up Logans bare chest.

Logan flushed as he registered his own state of undress, pulling his duvet up to cover himself despite the voice in his head that chided him for such an immature reaction- especially when his intruder was clad in little more than a crop top and skin tight jeans. Somehow, that didn’t help his blush.  
“You’re in my room.” Remus just beamed back at him, and he sighed.  
“Why are you in my room?”

“I threw a rock at your window and you didn’t reply!” The other boy exclaimed as though it explained everything, and Logan found himself too tired to even consider trying to suppress his smile. It was a convoluted train of thought, to be sure, but it was also a very _Remus_ train of thought.

“Well, you have my gratitude for your concern. Now you see I am alright, I assume you’ll be on your way..?” 

The smirk on Remus’ face told Logan immediately he’d said something wrong  
“You’re better than alright,” he drawled, and Logan was fairly sure his face was on fire. Perhaps not even figuratively, he realized with a start- lighting his friends faces alight for fun did seem like the kind of thing Remus might do.

After a thorough touch-check of his face for flame, Logan returned his attention to his friend, who had migrated to Logan’s desk and was flicking through his abandoned textbook.  
“Why are you here, then?”

When Remus, a boy who had once been sent out of _gym class_ for being too active (and, admittedly, also for trying to eat the tennis ball), froze, Logan knew something was wrong. He began to try and calculate the best way forwards when a loud ‘meowing’ interrupted them, pulling him from his thoughts and stirring Remus back to life.

“Do you know what Toxoplasmi Gondii is?”

“It’s a microscopic parasite only able to reproduce sexually when it is within the guts of a cat.” Logan frowned  
“Why, are you under the impression Crofters has them?”

“Oh, god, keep talking dirty to me~” Remus drawled, and Logan sighed. Ah.

“I see. That was an admirable attempt to redirect the conversation, Remus, but I’m not so easily distracted. What is bothering yo-”

Remus grinned  
“What about the Klatzenklavier?”

“Designed by seventeenth century German scholar, Athanasius Kircher, it was an early version of the piano, where sound was generated by diving nails into cats tails- wait. Stop.”

Remus shrugged innocently, but there was a clear underlying discomfort. He took a moment, and after noting Logan’s expectant gaze, finally gave in.  
“...Alright. You know that time when we were kids when I said I’d grow up to be homeless and have to live in a cardboard box that stinks of piss and my clothes would be ripped and in order to get money I’d have to--”

“Yes, I remember.” Logan interjected. “But I fail to see its relevance to your current situation.”

“Well, that’s me now!” Remus giggled. “Well, minus the cardboard box- I haven’t found one that smells right yet. But my jeans are ripped! And the prostitution is only a matter of time, really.”

Logan took a second to decipher his friends words, a frown setting onto his face.  
“You’re homeless?”

“And considering prostitution!”

“... You’re sixteen, Remus. That’s illegal.”

Remus winked. “Some like ‘em young”

“That’s not-” Logan ran a hand through his hair.  
“Please don’t drop out of education to become a prostitute. What happened to your home? Is Roman alright?”

“Ooh, jealous are we? Don’t worry, you’d have a discount.” Logan just raised an eyebrow at Remus, too concerned to be embarrassed, and he sighed  
“ _Fine_. Well, Logie-bear, earlier today I overheard a senior talking about how bad my brother had been in the musical, so I bit him!”

“Yes, I saw you being escorted to the office. I texted you to enquire why, but you never replied.”

“I smashed my phone weeks ago!” Remus declared gleefully, and Logan murmured an ‘ah’ of understanding.  
“So, _anyway_ , I told him if he didn’t back off, I’d bite off his fingers, use them as chopsticks to spoon his eyes out, and then feed them to him! ...But a teacher saw me before I even got the first finger off.”

Logan smiled at the childish pout he saw on Remus’ face, choosing not to worry too much about his friends murderous tendencies. He made a lot of threats, and went through with almost none, so Logan was a solid 80% certain he was safe. That was good enough for him.  
“You know, the human jaw does have the strength to bite a finger clean off, it’s just our brain that prevents us from doing so.”

Remus’ sulking quickly turned to a smirk, and he held out his hands to examine his chipped black nail polish.  
“Maybe yours does.”

… Alright, maybe Logan did have something to be concerned about, but he was too tired to address that right now.  
“No offense, but this is hardly the first fight you’ve engaged in.”

“Oh, right, he _might_ have been my cousin. My parents were piiiiissed, and they told me to apologize, so naturally I tried to bite his fingers off again- tasted fuckin disgusting but it would’ve been worth it. Unfortunately, they stopped me, and I wouldn’t apologize, so my dad said some shit about this being the final straw, even though we had lots of straws, right there on the fridge, waiting to go into the ocean and choke an adorable, swimming baby turtle-”

“So he kicked you out?” Logan asked quietly, and Remus shifted nervously under his gaze, eyes lowered as he nodded. He seemed vulnerable, moreso than Logan had ever seen- Remus was always so strong, so confident, so unapologetically himself that he seemed… invincible, almost. 

Now he just looked scared.

Logan swallowed the lump he felt rising in his throat, reminding himself that crying would be selfish when Remus was clearly the one in need of assistance. And, when that didn’t work, that if he cried now he would never hear the end of it.

“I am… Glad you came to me.” Logan told him, ignoring how Remus’ lips quirked up as he tried to steady his voice.  
“I will speak with my parents in the morning, but I see no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to stay long-term.”

Logan watched Remus pick at a loose thread on his sleeve, resisting the urge to place his hand over his to still it.

“Even if I talk about prostitution and the best way to disembowel someone and wanting to fry someone’s toes in burning hot oil when they push in front of me?”

“Even if you talk about prostitution, the best way to disembowel someone- which is, of course, with a machete- and frying someone's toes in oil.” Logan reassured him, smiling fondly, and Remus hesitantly returned it.

They’d be alright.


End file.
